


Serendipitous Moments

by n3shama



Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: Bubble Bath, F/M, Fluff, Hair Washing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n3shama/pseuds/n3shama
Summary: Just a cheeky bit of fluff.





	Serendipitous Moments

Martin threw legendary parties, this was common knowledge, and there had been nothing in the world that could’ve stopped you from attending his New Year’s Eve bash, complete with costume. However, if you’d known then that in three days time, you’d be laid up, basically one giant bruise and donning a wrist cast, you my have decided to forego this one.

You’d gone as a female Sherlock – had borrowed Ben’s coat and everything. But upon leaving, the heel of your boot had slipped between the bricks of the sidewalk and you went down. “That should teach you to mock me,” Benedict had joked before realizing that you were indeed in need of medical attention. He’d carried you to his Jaguar and taken you straight to A&E. He hadn’t even complained about the bit of blood on the leather from a cut on your chin.

Currently, you were on his front stoop, thanking God that you had a key to his flat as it made things like this so much easier when he was off filming. You were aching, quite literally, for a long soak in a tub and since your place had only a shower, you decided to take advantage of his. The place was dark, so you stepped lightly and carefully through his lounge and up the stairs. Once in his bedroom, you went straight to the loo, stripping off an old hoodie and joggers as you went.

Out of your bag, you retrieved a few candles, bath salts, and a bubble bar – everything needed to make this a most relaxing practice of self-care. After the tub was full, you gingerly lifted one leg over the edge, sighing as the warmth of the water spread up your calf, then the other leg and, finally, into the water. Oh yes, this was exactly what you’d needed.

Your well-loved, old iPod Classic was playing some Regina Spektor and you closed your eyes in bliss, a clean towel rolled beneath your neck. Your mind was quickly swept away, off somewhere else – somewhere tropical with fresh coconuts and cocktails. So, while you were far away from dreary, rainy London, in a place of eternal sunshine and cute cabana boys, you did not hear the front door open downstairs.

“How often do you let yourself into my home when I’m away?” Came Ben’s smooth voice as he stood in the doorway. There was mirth in his tone, causing it to drop an octave that made your skin ripple with gooseflesh despite the hot water. “Relax, I know you’ve had a rough few days – ma maison est ta maison.”

And now, he was speaking French in that delicious, velvety voice of his. Okay, maybe you could admit that you had a bit of a crush on him. But that was Benedict; he could charm a whole room out of their knickers, regardless of gender.

“Merci,” you whispered, meekly, and slunk down into the water. Could he see anything from this distance? Were there enough bubbles to cover your naughty bits? God, you hoped so. “I wasn’t expecting you home. I thought you were in Cardiff this week?” You asked, as he turned and strode into his master bedroom.

You could hear him shuffling around in there, possibly changing or emptying the small bag of belongings he always took with him when filming on site. If you craned your neck around, you could see the faintest outline of his back facing you. He was starting to bulk up again, for yet another role, and you were mesmerized by the way his muscles shifted beneath the fabric of his tee.

“I was supposed to be, but Martin had a family emergency to attend to.”

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing serious…”

“I believe it was a distant cousin who passed. Which is sad nonetheless, but Martin said he barely knew him. So,” he trailed off, until it was quiet again. Your polite chit-chat had lulled you back into the tranquility you’d created. Your eyes had closed and your head had lolled back against your makeshift pillow. “As I was saying, I get to have a few days off while Martin deals with his family issue.”

That voice did not come from the bedroom – that was the first thing your brain recognized. It was louder, clearer… closer. Your breath caught when you opened one eye to see him standing at the sink, dressed similarly to the way you had been when you’d arrived, in a threadbare tee and joggers. If you weren’t totally mortified for the second time that night, you might have noticed how incredible his arse looked in those joggers. But you were too panicked for that to register.

“Ben!” He flinched at your tone, and was about to turn around, “Don’t you dare turn around! I mean, for fuck’s sake, Cumberbatch, I’m naked!”

“I assumed so, darling. Generally, one doesn’t bathe with clothing. Do you not remember that I’ve seen you naked before now?” You were stunned. Your mouth opened and closed a few times as your pain-fogged brain tried to recall. When met with only silence, or sputtered-out nonsense, he filled in the blank. “You came to visit me on set and after we wrapped, Martin had the brilliant idea of getting together for a drink. We were all piss drunk and somehow, we ended up playing strip poker and you, well…”

“I what, Benedict?”

“You don’t have the greatest poker face,” he recounted with a teasing tone and a mischievous glint to his brilliant blue eyes.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. Now it was coming back to you. He was chuckling around his toothbrush, perhaps witnessing, via the mirror, as the crimson color climbed the column of your throat, and scorched your cheeks beneath your wrinkled fingertips. Then something occurred to you, “But Martin…”

“Oh, no – he’d gone off to bed way before then.” Ben assured you. “And, to be fair, you had seen a bit of me.”

“Pants, Benedict. I saw you in your pants.” Your voice was suddenly firm, but panicked. “The whole world has seen your torso. So, what, I’m supposed to feel at ease that I got to see everything but the best bits?”

“Best bits?” He finished rinsing the toothbrush, placing it back in its holder, clearly trying to hold back some more laughter.

“It’s not funny,” you admonished half-heartedly. “You’ve seen all of me and…” You didn’t bother to finish the question as Ben turned to face you. Your left arm immediately dropped over your chest, out of habit alone, you guessed, given this new information. Your right arm, along with the cast adorning your broken wrist, had to stay out of the water. You bit at your bottom lip, worrying it between your teeth, closing your eyes. This was all too disconcerting.

“Hey now,” his voice was smooth and hushed, but you knew he’d come closer to you. At this point, what did it matter if he saw anything? His hand, almost cold against the heat of your inflamed cheeks, cupped your face. And, with his thumb, he gently tugged at your bottom lip. “I did not mean to upset you. What can I do?” You sighed, then shrugged. “Do you want to see the good bits?” You couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you, which in turn, made Benedict laugh.

“No, that’s okay. But I’ve got an alternative,” you offered.

“Name it, love.”

“I haven’t been able to properly wash my hair in days. Could you…?”

He merely smiled; not a hint of malice or mischief, it was kind and genuine, almost innocent. He disappeared into his bedroom and came back with a tumbler from where he kept his good Scotch and moved to sit on the edge of the tub behind you. He tipped your chin so your head fell back and he used the glass to wet your hair. Then, he grabbed the shampoo, pouring a generous amount into his hand, before working it into a lather.

The honey-scented suds filled your senses, along with the feeling of his long, nimble fingers working your scalp, which elicited a quiet moan. He chuckled, but said nothing, moving down to massage your neck and shoulders for a bit. He then began carefully rinsing, shielding your eyes from the soapy water with one of his large hands. Even after you were surely thoroughly rinsed, he kept up his strong muscle manipulation and there was no way you were about to complain. In fact, your eyes were closed in bliss, enjoying every moment of it, until you could feel what felt like his face close to yours.

You were just about to open your eyes when he politely requested that you not. His perfect manners never ceased, and you couldn’t refuse him for that very reason… and that you were highly curious about where he was going with this. “I feel like it’s my fault that you fell,” he whispered in your left ear, his lips gingerly brushing along bruised temple. “I should have been holding onto you, or… I don’t know, I just know I should have done… something.” He sounded so repentant, and you wanted to reassure him, but when you were about to speak, his lips delicately covered yours.

The unexpected pressure had you releasing a tiny gasp into his mouth. But with his lips encouraging yours, you quickly fell into a rhythm, your right hand coming up to run your fingers through the curls he always sported when filming Sherlock. You loved those curls; they were, without a doubt, one of your favorite things about him.

Though, his lips, which you’d dreamt of kissing many times, surpassed expectations and quickly climbed to the top of the list. His tongue delicately brushing yours had you grasping the nape of his neck. His skin was warm to the touch, in contrast to your bath that was rapidly turning colder. You broke the kiss only to ask, through quick, gasping breaths, that he fetch a towel.

“Oh, right. You’re probably getting a bit chilled.” You watched his kiss-swollen lips as he spoke; they were fuller and pinker and looked even more delectable than before. You snagged one more, briefer kiss before allowing him to stand. He grabbed a towel from the cabinet while you drained the tub, but when you reached for it, he held it from your reach. “Allow me… please?” You smiled and nodded, letting him take your hand to help you up, then wrapped you in the soft cotton. “Let me get you some clothes?”

“That would wonderful.” He came back a few minutes later with another tee and a pair of his boxer briefs. “Thank you, Ben.”

“You get dressed while I make us a cuppa,” he said, still slightly out of breath as well, and the blue of eyes darkened with lust. He walked out, but then turned, leaning back in, grasping the doorframe. “And I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but you have the loveliest arse I’ve ever seen. If we keep this up, don’t be surprised if I take a handful of it.” He winked at you and then disappeared.

You laughed at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, but this felt like the beginning of something beyond friendship with Ben. How serendipitous that breaking and entering – sort of – could end in this? But, with the hint of a promise that things would continue, you quickly dressed and went to make yourself comfortable on his bed just as he returned with a bottle of Scotch instead of tea. You quirked a brow in his direction and he gave you a devilish grin. This was turning into quite an interesting evening.


End file.
